I was walking dung de road, de sun was high in de sky, it was surrounded by white clouds and endless blue. Seagulls flew overhead, somebody was playing some real good music on top de hill. It was a fine day, a really fine day I tell yuh. I was mid way down the street when I stopped in front of old Mis Chase’s house and sniffed de air. Wait a second, wah is dat I smell; oh dear lord, she making she famous sweetie, oh me lawd, I have to get home, i have to break that piggy bank. Dem fudge is calling me, i could smell de nutmeg, the Cinnamon, the brown sugar, oh lawd, come on skinny legs, move, move. Oh I can taste it, me mouth watering. Dat old woman know how to make some fudge. I tripped, fell, but forget the pay, forget my bleeding knees, I was Jonsing for some ah dat heavenly fudge. After all that trouble, all tat running, the frantic search for a hammer, here I sat, at the window overlooking the ocean a place full of brown, dark brown and pink sweetie. If this is not heaven, well hell must be real sweet.